


smeared glitter

by Areiton



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Come Eating, Established Relationship, Fluff, Halloween, Lingerie, M/M, Makeup, Oral Sex, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 00:23:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21262037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Areiton/pseuds/Areiton
Summary: There’s glitter on their dark blue sheets.Glitter on his face, caught in his beard and starlight bright in dark hair he still dyes with a fanatic insistence.





	smeared glitter

There’s glitter on their dark blue sheets. 

Glitter on his face, caught in his beard and starlight bright in dark hair he still dyes with a fanatic insistence. Steve touches his hair, gently, and Tony stirs, shifts a little. There’s a smile on his lips, his bright red lipstick long since faded, and Steve almost wants to get it and paint his lips again, wants to taste it waxy against his tongue when he kisses Tony. 

“You gonna wake up for me, genius?” Steve murmurs and Tony blinks at him, slow and dazed. Too many shots with Clint and he hadn’t had the heart to slow him down. 

It’s not their first holiday together--they’ve been doing Halloween parties and Fourth of July and team Thanksgivings for years. 

But it’s the first time they’ve celebrated a holiday _ together. _ The first time Tony bounced up to him, bright eyed and beautiful and cajoled him into couples costumes. 

It wasn’t hard. Tony looked better than any of the USO girls ever had in his tiny skirt and red white and blue, Steve’s colors and symbol draped over him, long legs pale and smooth in their fishnet stockings. 

Glitter and smokey eyes and bright red lipstick and that wicked smile that was for Steve alone--he would have given Tony anything in the world for that smile alone. 

“Sweetheart,” Steve murmurs, and Tony smiles at him, sweet and sleepy, all loose and pliant from the toxic green shots Clint had been pouring, and maybe something else. 

“You’re gonna hate me in the morning, if I let you sleep in that,” Steve says. 

“Undress me, soldier,” Tony murmurs, and Steve leans down, to brush a kiss, chaste and tasting of chocolate and rum, across his lips.

He peels the stockings down, a slow roll of black fishnet exposing tan, toned legs, a delicate ankle. He’s spent too long staring at the jut of bone, the sweet curve of his ankle, and it would embarrass him, but Tony has never done more than smile, and place his feet, bare and soft, in Steve’s lap, curling up for a nap while Steve’s grip circles his ankle, possessive and gentle. 

He presses a kiss there, and Tony sighs, shifts, just a little and an idea takes him, so sharp and demanding he shifts and stands. Tony whines, petulant and Steve smiles at him. 

“Don’t move,” Steve murmurs. 

It takes only a moment to shed the uniform Tony put him in, skin tight and ancient and familiar, and the pale red and gold--that isn’t as familiar. 

That is something Tony didn’t dress him in, a secret held against his skin throughout the party, a low heat in his blood when he thought about this moment. 

There is still makeup on the counter, a messy discarded pile from Tony’s preparation hours before and it feels like stepping back in time, to brush glitter across his cheeks, the way Susie taught him on the USO tour a lifetime ago. 

To purse his lips and slick them bright red, full and pouty. His fingers shake a little, brushing eyeliner on, and it’s messy, not as perfect as he could do once--but it’ll do. He runs a hand through his carefully slicked back hair, and smiles at the tousled results. 

Steve takes a deep breathe, and goes back. 

Tony has stripped out of his skirt and top, laid naked against their bed, and his eyes, lazy and hungry, go hot and wide when he sees Steve. 

He makes a pretty picture, in a pale red baby doll chemise, his nipples perky and sensitive under the scratchy lace. The panties--and they are, they’re high cut silk and soft, feminine, clinging to his narrow hips in a way that makes him anxious and _ hot _ all at once, his cock hard and wet in it’s silky cage--match the chemise, with little golden accents. He bites his lip, and smiles at Tony from under his lashes. 

“_ Steve,” _Tony breathes. 

“You like it?” he asks, pleased and Tony breathes a curse. 

Steve smiles, and leans over him, the familiar stretch of his body brushing enticingly against silk and lace and the kiss tastes like wax and sugar and rum and it’s _ perfect _. 

“Let me,” he murmurs, and kisses down Tony’s chest. 

Once, Bucky told him about makin’ time with Rita Sampson and how hot it’d made him, seeing her lipstick smeared across his chest and dick. 

As Steve takes Tony’s cock in his mouth, his chest marked up so pretty, he thinks--he gets it. 

And if the way Tony groans, when he comes, wet and white across Steve’s mouth, lipstick smeared and messy--he thinks Tony would too. 

Tony, because Tony is a kink little shit even sober, but downright deviant when he’s drunk, licks him clean and kisses the taste of himself out of Steve’s mouth, licking deep and filthy and fucks a finger against his rim through red silk, the stretch and friction on his cock driving him mad. 

“Come for me, pretty,” Tony breathes, and like a wave breaking, he does, spills sticky and hot in soft silk and Tony kisses the broken moan from his lips, drinks it down, greedy and insatiable and Steve feels drunk in a way he only ever does with Tony, drunk and happy. 

They fall asleep there, sticky and smeared with lipstick and glitter and wrapped up in each other. 


End file.
